


Open Hand or Closed Fist

by RosellaWrites



Series: It’s Not the Waking, It’s the Rising [2]
Category: Twilight (Movies), Twilight Series - All Media Types, Twilight Series - Stephenie Meyer
Genre: Bisexual Male Character, F/M, Jasper isn’t a Confederate, M/M, Trans Character, Trans Male Character, Vampire Sex, Vampire Turning
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-16
Updated: 2021-01-16
Packaged: 2021-03-13 16:42:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28781424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RosellaWrites/pseuds/RosellaWrites
Summary: Jasper wasn't always his name. He'd once been called Jane, in a life he'd rather not remember.A series of one-shots exploring Jasper’s story in the universe of "Honey Just Put Your Sweet Lips On My Lips."
Relationships: Emmett Cullen/Jasper Hale, Jasper Hale/Maria
Series: It’s Not the Waking, It’s the Rising [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2110140
Comments: 3
Kudos: 6





	Open Hand or Closed Fist

_ Unbearable thirst. _

_ Dry, raw, chafing. Every swallow, daggers to the throat. _

_ My very skin was dry, beaten to ash by the Texas sun. My fingers scrabbled through the roots of a patch of tobosa grass, searching for any bit of moisture it had found in the cracks in the ground.  _

_ But this mesa was devoid of any water or life. _

_ Part of me wished I’d stayed. Back home, my father would have married me off to George Willoughby, Esq., my second cousin and more than sixty years my senior. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t bear to be forced into a marriage bed again — not only because of the pain and humiliation, but the thought of anyone touching this… my body… _

_ This isn’t my body. _

_ Every cell screamed in me to die. _

_ But I didn’t hear her approaching. _

“Ay, mi cariño.”

_ Slim brown hands scooped my lanky body into her arms as if I were a sheaf of wheat. My dress lay in tatters over her face until she shook it away, showing the gorgeous chiseled features of a Latina who’d been kissed by the sun. Her black hair and eyes reflected the glaring light, and… the sunlight… shimmered on her skin, like a mirage… _

_ “Sleep now,  _ niña _ ,” she whispered, her sweet breath washing over my face.  _

_ She lowered her face to mine to kiss me chastely on the mouth. It stung when her saliva ran into the cracks in my lips… then it burned… then it boiled…  _

* * *

“Wake.”

My throat was on fire.

“It's time. You’ve lain here for two days, _mi amigo._ _Es hora de levantarse._ ”

I raised my hand to my face. It seemed larger than I remembered, and hard, as if it were carved from stone. I opened my eyes.

The Latina leaned over me, beaming.

“It’s about time,” she said with an even wider smile. “You’ve become something new.”

Confusion rippled through me. I glanced at my hand… and it  _ was _ larger. I touched it to my face again, and felt… 

I surged to my feet, faster than I ever thought possible, and looked around wildly. I was in a small earthen hut, fashioned from adobe, containing only a wooden table, a fire pit, and the cot I’d been laying on. The woman yelped, giddy, and handed me a large bowl of water.

“Look! Look inside!” she cried, eyes bright.

The person reflected in the bowl wasn’t me… but it was more  _ me _ than I’d ever been. My —  _ my own! _ — hand touched my face again, and the man in the bowl mirrored me. Tendons stood out on his hand, with his long fingers and strong-looking grasp, and the chin he touched was covered in a beautiful, thick, straight blond beard. His eyes were serious and his brow furrowed, the planes of his face roughly-hewn and strong and yet… strangely beautiful. His irises burned red.

I ran my huge hands downwards over my body, realizing I was clad only in thin denim britches. I paused at my collarbones, eyes closed, scared to continue… but no rising swell of breasts met my inquiring touch. Just flat, muscular chest. 

The mounting swell of —  _ of joy? _ — euphoria crested and broke over me, and I nearly shouted with the force of it. The strength of this emotion would’ve brought me to tears in a foggier, more and more distant time…

“Ma’am?” I said, then jolting at the sound of my voice — smooth, low, and slightly lilting, like the voice of my very Texan father.

A cool hand spread over my shoulder blade. “Yes?”

“What… happened to me?”

Her arms wrapped around my waist, and I felt what I thought was her cheek against my back. “You were dying,  _ mi cariño.  _ Or, I should say,  _ señor. _ You were such a small, sad human, slumped on the ground, your lips bleeding for want of water. So I turned you into a creature like myself.”

“An angel? Am I dead?”

“Not an angel. And neither are you dead. Something… in between.”

I turned and looked down on her upturned face, a thrill running through my gut when I saw how small she was compared to me. I ran my broad thumb along her jaw, loving the way she smiled. Her eyes were like mine — bloodred.

A rising curiosity mounted in me, stronger even than the still-painful scratching in my throat. I leaned down, carefully, feeling my long blond hair whisper past my ears, and brushed my nose against hers. Her crimson eyes fluttered closed behind long lashes.

“May I?” I drawled.

I… _ felt _ her excitement spike, as surely as I felt my own. I wasn’t positive how I could tell the difference between her and myself, but something in my soul of souls knew. No heart inside her beat, nor inside my own chest, but as surely as the sun rose each day, she was feeling something intense. 

I held it inside myself, caressing it, experiencing it, like a soft ball of bread dough. I kneaded it slightly and felt it grow, so I kneaded it again until it took a shape I liked the feel of — panting, relentless  _ need. _

Then she lunged for my mouth.

This was no repeat of our chaste kiss on the mesa. This was a more base, animalistic  _ need _ of a kiss. The hairs on my lip ground against her mouth — her soft, cool mouth — and her tongue pressed inside until she could trace the ridge of my teeth. I grunted, and loved how it vibrated in my chest, so I turned it into a low growl. 

Her breasts pressed against my chest, pushed up and out by her corset, and before I thought better of it I trailed my lips in a string of kisses down her neck, her shoulder, her collarbone, until I found the soft flesh I’d so hated on myself but _ needed and wanted on her.  _

Her head flung back and she let out a shriek when I pulled her nipple free of her clothes with my teeth. A furious urgency built in me, strangely hot and pulsing, in the pit of my stomach and moving downwards. I pressed my groin against her thigh, not thinking, and groaned against her breast when the pressure sent stronger waves of need through my body. I pressed again and growled. 

“I need you,  _ mi cielo! _ ” she cried. “I need you inside — ”

I cut her off with another kiss, harsher than the first, and ripped at my britches with a free hand. They came apart like crepe paper under my touch, and underneath — 

My hand trembled as I wrapped my fingers around my length, almost afraid to grip it. But  _ oh _ , the touch felt so good. I was already fully erect, pulsing and painful with need, and the now-familiar euphoria washed over me again.

Her eyes widened. She whimpered. I fanned her lust as it lay inside me, along with my own, until she was nearly sobbing. I hefted her heavy skirts up over one arm, lifting her and slamming her against the wall with the other, and ground my body against her again. She lifted her leg until I could hoist it on my shoulder. She weighed next to nothing in my grasp. 

Her eyes held mine, brows drawn up and together, mouth open. I reached my free hand down to feel under her skirt — sensing the curve of her ass, leg meeting lip, soft, wispy hair, then — 

“Nnnggg — “

“I know, I know, darlin’” I murmured, easing a finger into her. 

Her hips bucked to take my finger, whimpers pouring from her nose and from between her clenched teeth. I slid out, earning a whine of complaint, then held my cock again to line up with her opening.

I held her gaze again, frozen. “Are you ready?”

“ _ Carajo, _ yes!” she cried. 

So I plunged my full length into her soaked cunt. 

We both cried out, hers a shriek and mine an earth-rumbling roar. The sensation of being  _ inside _ her was unlike anything I’d ever felt before, and that glorious euphoria was back, enhancing the thrill of fucking this gorgeous woman. Her need flagged inside me alongside my own as I thrust into her again, again, again, balls deep, sending shudders through both of us. She swung her other leg up over my shoulder, letting me support her body against the wall, and squeezed my head between her calves. The new angle had her screaming and groaning in seconds. 

I don’t know what I expected sex with a cock would feel like, but it definitely wasn’t this. Every centimeter of my member was on fire, and each thrust that ground my tip against her rough inner wall sent shivers up my spine. I was finally in control.

Our climaxes mounted together. I fucked her against that wall as if I were hammering her into it, loving the way I could feel what she felt while I was feeling my own cum building. I felt it winding in the pit in my stomach, moving to clench in my groin, then —

She screamed as the wave crested over us both simultaneously. I staggered, thrusting into her with a frantic, staccato rhythm as my balls clenched and emptied inside her, overwhelmed by the rising tide of her emotions. She rode her orgasm down while mine crested again, sending shooting jolts of pleasure through me with each pulse of my cum into her cunt. 

Finally I slumped, overcome, showering her limp neck with weary kisses. She drew her hands down from her ankles to rest on my chest, and I eased her down from her pinned position, hating to pull out of her body. I dropped her skirt, noting with glee the stream of my cum running down her leg. 

She pulled my head down by the hair and captured my lips for a final, ferocious kiss that slowly turned tender. She pulled back, resting her forehead against mine, and sighed. 

“Call me Jasper,” I murmured.

She smiled. “And I’m Maria. Welcome to the family.”


End file.
